Fathers Know Best
by irislim
Summary: When eccentric widowed fathers work together, you can always count on some mischief. When they try their hand at parenting separately, it's sometimes up to their children to figure things out. A Regency Elizabeth/Darcy AU. (Sample Only)


The hearty ocean waves, confident and hoarse, crashed themselves against the unsuspecting shore. It wasn't the warmest time of year to travel, but who was he to deny his blushing bride her whims? Many may have claimed that he, a landed gentleman, was foolish to take upon a tradesman daughter. His Cambridge friends had called him a fool in love.

Every night he held Frances in his arms, however – the doubts simply ebbed away.

A man could find new friends – could he not?

"Fitzwilliam, do not scramble so!"

Thomas turned at the sound of childlike laughter and stomping feet. Two adults – one clearly a father and the other a nurse – chased after the energetic boy. The child clearly enjoyed the bustling ocean, even while remaining obediently on land.

"Oh, be careful, child." Thomas caught the boy before he could fall. Dark hair and ruddy cheeks smiled up at him.

His heart could not help softening.

"I bed your pardon most sincerely, sir, he usually does not act so." The well-dressed father approached quickly, arm extended in apology. The nurse quickly gathered her ward, muttering a thousand pleas for forgiveness.

"No harm done now, is there?" Thomas smiled, still buoyed by the joys of his honeymoon, as he shook the man's hand. The time may still be early for his town-hours wife, but his own mood was genial enough for even the most mischievous children.

"George Darcy, sir, of Derbyshire," the tall man introduced.

"Thomas Bennet, Hertfordshire." Thomas smiled at his newfound friend. "You have travelled far for your son to have his playtime with the waves."

The stately man chuckled, his bearing regal despite his lack of title.

"My wife has family in Kent. We considered how little we used the property here at Ramsgate – and made a rather unplanned visit for my son to see the ocean."

"You must love him very much," said Thomas, in pure frankness of spirit.

Mr. George Darcy laughed again. "We have waited for this heir for a few years. One appreciates what one has to earn."

Thomas smiled, still buoyed by the happy expectancy of a fresh marriage.

"Any children of your own, Mr. Bennet?" Inquired his new friend courteously.

"It would hardly be proper to have one so soon after our marriage of a week." Thomas chuckled heartily.

Mr. Darcy smiled, nodding his head in understanding.

"But, perhaps, sir, if we were to meet another five years hence, we would each have our own brood to gather beside our wives?"

There was a twinkle in the tall man's eyes, a kindly understanding of someone wiser than his years – for he could not be any more than ten years Thomas's senior.

"I look forward to furthering our acquaintance, Mr. Bennet. Life may have its share of surprises for us yet."

"All the best to your wonderful family, sir."

"And all the best to you and your lovely new bride."

* * *

"She adores the seashore as much as he, it seems." George watched his son coaxing the babe closer, offering a glistening seashell in his 8-year-old palm. His heart warmed at the thought of Fitzwilliam repeating this very act to his newborn sibling-to-come.

"Lizzy is as mischievous as Jane is sweet-natured." Thomas Bennet laughed beside him, the younger man's eyes just as transfixed on the two lively children. "When it came to this visit, my wife had been more than determined that I vowed to watch Lizzy and entrust her with Jane. One cannot truly rest with this spirited little one around."

As if eager to prove her father's point, the small but terrible Lizzy Bennet flung a fistful of sand against a clearly-surprised Fitzwilliam. George smiled.

"Two children in a mere few years, friend," George spoke, ensuring that he kept any wistfulness subdued, "surely, it shall be a son for you this time."

"I would heartily wish so." The slight and subtle sigh, barely audible, reminded George that there were many things beyond human control.

For a quiet half hour, the men settled upon the stone seats, each smiling in turn at their vivacious children frolicking their way under the nursemaids' care. The summer ocean breeze had its way with the dark locks each child sported, often rousing giggles and laughter from the little ones.

George smiled. It was not the first time he and Anne had hopes for another child - and he could only pray that this child would survive past the womb. Their hearts and Anne's body could only take so much pain. With Fitzwilliam's growing curiosity over his mother's growing girth, there was yet another soul now anticipating the arrival of a new life.

He wondered if Bennet's girls knew at all that their own mother was about to add to their numbers.

"Shall we have them marry?" Bennet asked, with no preamble.

George looked up, surprised yet not offended. He gestured to a running Fitzwilliam and chuckling Lizzy. "Them?"

"Oh no - I did not think." Bennet laughed. "It is the babes I speak of - if one were a son and the other a daughter, perhaps?"

Understanding dawned a little better, and George smiled once more. "I have no qualms against such an arrangement, friend."

"I doubt I shall ever have to work hard to convince my wife." Bennet chuckled.

Having met the excitable Mrs. Bennet a few times since this beginning of this sudden friendship, George laughed as well. "Of that, friend, I am certain."

* * *

"We sat here, did we not?" Thomas choked on his own words. His hands clenched the handkerchief in his hands until his fists shook.

"Yes, I believe we did."

"It was before - "

"Before."

The roaring ocean chased after his friend's hollow, single word - crashing around it with finality.

The children may have accompanied their grieving fathers upon this trip - but each solemn heart, even young Lydia's, had ensured that all but the loneliest of men stayed indoors upon this chilly morning.

It had been five long years since Frances had died in childbirth - five long years since he had dared venture this far from the place they had called home. It was not that he had never considered taking yet another wife. Longbourn still needed its heir. A brother, even a younger one, would have helped in elevating his three daughters' fortunes. A dedicated mistress would have helped in running Longbourn well.

Yet no one had pleased him, and not a single lady in Meryton or beyond had come even close to understanding the profundity of what he had shared with the one woman he had ever truly loved. A few neighbors had been eager to present their older nieces or daughters to him.

Thomas had shunned them most.

And whoever he had not shunned - had chosen to shun his daughters.

The latter act was, in his eyes, unpardonable.

And once he had spent two years being the mysterious widower of Longbourn, he had found himself too attached to the role altogether to ever give it up.

His three daughters - each so vibrant in her own way - were to be his light and love until he died. His cousin could inherit whatever remained.

"Anne loved our summer home," the words escaped the stately Mr. Darcy with a slight, bereft quiver.

Thomas sighed, once again reminded of why he had agreed to this trip again at last.

His friend had, after many losses, finally gained yet another living child.

This babe, however, had come at the gravest of costs.

"I miss her dearly. Fitzwilliam does as well." The waves roared in agreement.

Thomas nodded, understanding all too well the unbearable pain of having one's sun snuffed out by the darkness of untimely death.

"I have much for which to give thanks," continued his grieving companion. "I know I ought not to complain so selfishly when God has granted me a son to share my grief."

Thomas smiled sadly, not having even thought to blame his forlorn friend. "No living companionship can ever truly fill the imprints of a lost love."

"They comfort us - to a degree."

"Yes." Thomas thought deeply of his daughters - of Jane's demureness, Lizzy's mischief, and Lydia's never-ending silliness.

"Perhaps, to ease my conscience, I ought to share my son with you."

The two men shared a laugh - a rare occurrence.

"Perhaps." Thomas smiled - heart hopeful, future set.

* * *

_**Eleven Years Later**_

* * *

"Papa, it was not Jane's fault, truly," his Lizzy insisted, eyes as impassioned as ever. There had been several times he'd wondered how a mere year separated the ever-serene Jane and the ever-emphatic Lizzy. How could one act so womanly at eighteen and the other be every way nearly a boy? "It was Lydia who began the squabble. I saw it all with my own eyes."

Thomas smirked, accustomed to the narrative.

Jane would never allow for another to take blame in any argument, regardless of its cause, and remained wholly dedicated to her mistressly duties of running a home with peace, provision, and harmony. Lydia, flighty as ever, could never survive a single day without having some sort of disagreement with a servant, sister, or friend - bringing an unceasing flow of entertainment. Then there was Lizzy - steward, manager - and, in many ways, the son he never had.

And whatever his dear Jane possessed in compassion, his lively Lydia in effervescence, his resolute Lizzy maintained in an unwavering sense of justice.

Oh God pity and bless the man to marry this one!

"I did not call you in, Lizzy, to discuss the particulars of your sisters' disagreement today."

His simple declaration seemed to silence whatever the next line from his daughter was to be. Red-faced still, his middle child settled herself more primly this time upon the chair across his desk.

"What do you need to discuss, Papa?"

Thomas smiled, glancing once more at the letter in his hand. The familiar handwriting reminded him of fonder times - younger times. He and George Darcy had never fully stopped their correspondence over the years - but, as men were wont to do, the letters between them had never coursed as frequently as needed be. There were times when life had simply offered very little to relate.

"We are to have a visitor soon, it seems."

"A visitor," Lizzy echoed.

"A friend from my youth is requesting our assistance in training his godson, to groom and equip him as a future steward of an estate."

"I see."

"The young man in question is described to be 'tall, quiet, diligent, of the prideful sort - but possessing of a good heart nonetheless.'" Thomas read directly off the page.

"And we are tasked to train him, Papa?"

"It is an unusual favor, I must admit."

"But we have no steward," Lizzy stated the very obvious answer to the situation.

Thomas nodded. "I am aware - and have reiterated so to my friend."

"And yet he insists."

Thomas readjusted the spectacles on his nose. "It appears he does."

"I suppose one must find help where one can." It was very much like his Lizzy to be so practical over all of it. She did not know the friend in question. She did not know that _they _of Longbourn had every reason to consult the wisdom of _them _of Pemberley - and not quite the other way around.

She clearly did not know the implication of George Darcy's teasing line 'perhaps this boy may be a son to you yet' near the latter half of the letter.

Thomas cleared his throat, determining to keep certain portions of the strange request to himself.

"The young man is expected to arrive in a week's time. I trust you and Jane to make all necessary arrangements."

Lizzy nodded, with that special sort of excitement on her face - the sort that appeared whenever something, _anything, _out of the ordinary was about to happen to their secluded country home.

"We shall have everything in order, Papa."

* * *

_A/N: The rest of this story, reworked and re-edited, is now available on Amazon's Kindle Store as Fathers Know Best by Iris Lim. Thank you to everyone who supports my stories here and elsewhere! Your encouragement means the world to me :)_


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